Inhibitions
by QueenOfBabble
Summary: It's unexpected, and she loves it.


Inhibitions

She seems him across the crowded club, and feels _it_ again. Everything she felt for him _onceuponatimebutnotnow_ – or so she'd thought. She thought she was long past loving him, but apparently she was wrong. He's not dancing, and that's great for her, because she doesn't think she can handle him dancing with another girl.

She's not sure why she's here at the moment – she's too drunk, but she forgets that, too – but she thinks that it has to do with her nosy cousin and her twin sister. They've never been ones for staying in on a Saturday night – like she's inclined to do – and they probably decided that tonight was the night for her to have a social life.

It's not really a problem right now, of course. Except she's not too sure that she has the guts to go up to him, let alone ask him to dance. That's what she wants to do, sure, but she's not spontaneous and fiery enough to do it. She's always been a bit of a 'bookworm', and the idea of her making the first move in generally preposterous. But tonight's a night for taking chances – she took a chance by getting out of her tiny flat, didn't she? – so why doesn't she just go for the big prize?

That settled, she makes quick work of cutting across the packed dance floor and to the bar. He's holding a bottle in one hand and a cell phone in the other. He's not really looking around, so she takes him by surprise when she taps him on the shoulder. He looks up, and she can see that she's startled him. She's always been able to read his dreamy blue eyes, and being drunk doesn't impair her ability.

She asks him to dance, and he sighs. Rejection floods through her, and she turns to walk away, but he grips her wrist. He's putting some money on the counter for the bartender, and he's slipping his phone in his pocket. Smiling, she leads him to the center of the mob, and they start to move together to the beat of the techno track playing.

They dance for what seems like eternity, but is in actuality an hour. She feels a spark flowing between them. It's electrifying, exciting, heart-breaking. She knows that it's wasted. He's never loved her, he doesn't love her, he'll never love her. The fact that they have chemistry doesn't matter, it seems. He's never going to see it, feel it, _know it_, like she does.

In her drunken (but-gradually-starting-to-sober-up) state, she's feeling bold. So when the next song starts playing, one of those _fastfastfast_ 'dirty dancing' songs, she turns around. Her back to his front, and she knows he's confused. He's never known of her love for him, so this has to be a surprise.

Before she can chicken out, she starts dancing like she's seen her cousins do dozens of times before. Her semi-sober mind feels a bit slutty, but she's still drunk enough that she doesn't really care. She's engaged by the rhythm, and eventually she doesn't have to even concentrate. Her body's moving automatically to the beat.

Too soon, the song's over. She squirms as he pulls her to a dark corner. At least he's not going to chew her out in front of the packed club. But she still doesn't like it. She doesn't want to be reprimanded for being free for once. She's tired of people telling her what is and isn't okay. She wants to live her life and not be judged. But obviously that's asking for too much.

She's ready for his lecture. Ready for him to get on with it. Then he can finish, and she can pretend to cry as she sulks away. She'll be free again, and she'll find another guy to love that _maybejustmaybe_ might be able to love her back. And she can live _happyeverafter_, and he'll just be a distant memory – but not really. So she turns to get it over with.

And suddenly his mouth's on hers. Hands weave into hair, fire flows between their bodies. They're not close enough, even though every inch of bare skin is meeting. It's unexpected, and she loves it. Loves that this is everything she's ever dreamed of.

* * *

They get married, did you know? And it's a beautiful wedding. Probably the best of the family, everyone says so. But she doesn't really care. She's not even nervous when saying her vows, honestly.

She's just happy that she's finally gotten everything that she's always wanted. She's gotten him after _ohsomanytoomanytocount_ years. She still can't believe that this all started on a (forced) night out, when she was drunk and he was just a little smashed, and all their inhibitions were gone. He's finally hers, and she's finally his. And that's all that really matters.


End file.
